


As You Fall

by coldfiredragon



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 10:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14669520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldfiredragon/pseuds/coldfiredragon
Summary: A tragedy during Eliot's third year prevents him from participating in the trials with his class.  Getting pushed back means he gets to be Quentin's secret partner, and something starts to blossom after they've flown south together.  AKA, timeloop 4.





	As You Fall

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for week 3 of the welters challenge, week 3, Timeloops
> 
> This is a mix of book and show. It's a 5 year Brakebills program, everyone is under 20. I pulled some of the dialogue directly from the show.
> 
> Trigger warnings for an offscreen character death, under age drinking, and mentions of self harm.

Quentin had only been attending second year classes for a handful of days when a note sailed through the open classroom window and landed in Professor Sunderland's hand. The woman paused her lecture, unfolded the message to read it, then curtly informed them that classes campus wide would be suspended for the rest of the day. With a few fast snaps of her hands her things had gathered together and she had hastened from the classroom 

For about a full thirty seconds no one spoke, or moved, then there was the quiet rustle of papers, and the rise of hushed voices as students started to speculate. Quentin's gaze shifted to the three friends he shared the class with. Alice and Julia both shrugged, and Penny rolled his eyes before gathering his books and standing. 

“At least I don't have to spend the rest of the day with the three of you.” He muttered as he joined the students filing from the classroom. It was a sentiment Quentin shared; the four of them had spent too much time studying together when the faculty had decided to let them graduate to the second year curriculum at an accelerated rate. 

“I guess we should just head back to the cottage.” Alice suggested as she stood. Quentin nodded.

“Are you tagging along, Jules?” She nodded, and the two of them gathered their things to follow Alice. He wasn't really comfortable with his room in the cottage yet. Not having an assigned discipline made him feel like an outsider. What if he got comfortable, and they realized he was supposed to be in one of the other groups? It would only make leaving that much harder. 

The halls were eerily quiet as they walked outside. News of whatever had happened seemed to have cast a spell a spell on the campus. Everyone they passed seemed subdued. Alice held her books a little closer to her chest, and Quentin's grip tightened on the strap of his bag as they walked across the grounds. The front door of the cottage stood ajar by about an inch and a half when they reached it, inside they found the rest of their house sitting in tight little knots, some of the girls were crying. The Dean waited at the bottom of the stairs with a bottle of whiskey, and he handed each of them a shot. 

“Find a seat.” He murmured as he gestured towards the common room. Quentin let Alice have the last seat on the couches while he and Julia sank onto empty spots of floor. The sharp clap of Fogg's hands made him jump. He watched the man hand off the bottle to the student closest to him. “Now that all of you are here.” He began. “I'll only have to say this once. Some of you already know about what happened in the library this afternoon, for the ones who do not let me offer my sincerest condolences.” Quentin could feel a knot forming in his stomach. As discreetly as he could he glanced around him, trying to figure out who was missing, and what might have happened. “I know many of you were close to Janet, and I'm here to assure you that what happened was an isolated incident.” Julia gasped, someone sobbed, and Quentin knew without needing to be explicitly told that whatever the incident was it had killed her. 

“Has a service been scheduled yet?” Someone asked. 

“Not yet.” Quentin swallowed the shot of whiskey he had been given. The bottle was working its way around the group; he poured himself a second shot when it reached him. He used the opportunity of passing it to the next knot of students to look for Eliot, but the older boy had apparently been excused from the impromptu assembly. “Details will be shared as soon as they are available. If anyone has anything they wish to contribute to her memorial service we will make every effort to involve you. We have reached out to several grief counselors, and two of them will arrive later this evening. All of you are encouraged to speak to one of them.” Fogg clapped his hands again, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Are there any questions?” 

“What exactly happened?” Someone was brave enough to ask. The Dean's eyes swept the room. 

“Miss Pluchinsky found a mislabeled book. It's been removed from the collection.” Whispers exploded across the room. It was evident to everyone that details were being left out. 

“If that's all...” Fogg's booming voice brought everyone's attention back to him. “If that's all...” He repeated in a normal register.

“Will classes resume tomorrow?” Josh asked. 

“Classes will resume on Monday. Anyone else?” Fogg waited a few heartbeats for the group to speak. “My office will be open throughout the weekend.” The man rubbed his hands together, then he turned towards the front door and left them. Quentin combed his hair back behind his ears and shared a look with Julia, who scooted closer to wrap her arm around his waist. 

“I'm sorry.” She offered as they leaned back against the closest couch. 

“We weren't that close.” Quentin whispered. Hell, he and Eliot hadn't really been close since the Summer before his first year. Quentin had hoped that would change now that he had a room in the physical cottage, but the older boy had remained as aloof as ever. Around them the group started to break apart. Many disappeared up the stairs to process their grief in the solitude of their rooms. Josh had the bottle of whiskey in his hand when he plopped down beside them. 

“Can you believe this shit?” He proclaimed. Quentin held out his shot glass for the older boy to refill. 

“Where's Eliot?” He asked after he'd swallowed. 

“They haven't let him come back yet.” Quentin felt his stomach flip. Had Eliot been there when it happened? He could only imagine the state the other boy must be in if he'd witnessed it; Janet was his best friend. 

“Oh god.” Julia whispered, her thoughts had apparently followed his own. The common room continued to empty, even Alice headed upstairs after about fifteen minutes, until it was just the three of them leaning against the couch. The bottle they were sharing had been charmed not to empty, so there was plenty of drink to pass back and forth. Quentin was pleasantly tipsy when the cottage door slammed open. Eliot darted up the steps with his head hung without so much as a glance in their direction. The front door echoed as he swung it shut again with his telekinesis. 

“Come on.” Before Quentin could protest Josh had grabbed his wrist, and dragged him to his feet. 

“Why me?” Quentin whispered. 

“You're one of the closest friends he has.” Josh continued to pull him towards the stairs. 

“Me? Eliot barely talks to me.” Quentin squeaked.

“All ports in a storm.” Josh told him as they walked down the upstairs hallway. Eliot's door was closed, and Josh tapped on it. “Eliot? Quentin and I brought unending whiskey!” He twisted the knob and pushed the door open. The lights were off. Eliot was thrown carelessly across his bed; he raised his head to give them a blank stare before dropping it back to the pillow he was clutching. That he didn't tell them to leave seemed to be invitation enough for Josh. Quentin closed the door behind them. Josh moved to sit on Eliot's left, and gestured for Quentin to take the opposite side. Eliot curled into a tight ball between them. “So neither of us are going to ask what the fuck happened, but if you want to volunteer the information you won't hear us complaining.” Josh was trying to be glib, but Eliot seemed too out of it to even speak, Quentin was pretty sure he'd been given something. 

“If you want us to leave we will.” Quentin offered. Eliot's hair hung in limp curls, and Quentin reached to sweep a handful of them back from his face. The boy between them barely stirred. Quentin shared a concerned glance with Josh. “What did they give you to put you this out of it?” He asked, mentally cataloging the anti-depressants he had experience with, and trying to figure out which one of them would leave Eliot like this.

“A potion.” Quentin rested his hand on Eliot's shoulder, and felt the shiver. “So I can't hurt myself.” Quentin was stunned, firstly that there was a potion capable of doing that, and secondly that the school had decided that dosing Eliot after his best friend had died was the best course of action. “You guys can leave. I know that's why you're here, to keep an eye on me.” 

“We're here because one of our friends is dead.” Josh interrupted. “Do you really want to deal with this by yourself? I don't, I doubt Q does.” 

“Josh stop.” Quentin rested his elbow against the mattress so he could stretch out. Eliot had started to cry. Silent tears leaked down his face; Quentin cupped his hand around the other boy's cheek. 

“Jesus, man. I'm not trying to be a dick, I swear.” Josh shifted to sit against the headboard; Quentin heard the slosh of whiskey as he brought the bottle to his lips. The three of them stayed there through the rest of the evening, eventually Josh got up to pee and didn't come back. 

“You don't have to sleep here.” Eliot finally whispered. “I'm fine.” 

“Do you want me to go?” There was a long enough pause that Quentin thought he wasn't going to answer. 

“Not really.” That settled it.

“Then I guess I'm sleeping here tonight.” 

“Okay.” Eliot dragged himself out of bed to strip off his school uniform. He crawled back into bed in boxers and a t-shirt. “Thanks, Q.” Quentin sat up to strip off some of his clothes. Morning found both of them still in the same bed, having barely moved. Eliot was listless as Quentin smoothed the curls from his face. 

“How long is the potion supposed to last.”

“Three days, I think. They'll just give me another one when it wears off. It's fine.” Quentin didn't think it was, he'd been prescribed meds that just weren't right. 

“Are they going to give you counseling too?” The school couldn't just keep drugging him if this was going to be the result. 

“I think so.” Quentin knew better than to ask what had happened, Eliot needed someone, so alienating himself by trying to force the conversation was out of the question. 

“Are you hungry?” 

“Go get breakfast. I'm just going to lay here.”

“You have to eat.” 

“Then bring me something back.” Quentin supposed that was the best compromise he would get. He gathered his clothes and headed to his room to change. Julia found him in the dining hall. 

“How's El holding up?” 

“He's out of it. They gave him this fucked up potion.” Talking about it made Quentin angry. Knowing that it could be used on him if his depression got out of hand twisted his stomach in knots. “So he can't hurt himself.” He whispered the last part, because it wasn't anyone's business. They ate, and Quentin wrapped a plate to take it back to the cottage. Eliot had bathed while he was gone; his hair was still damp. Seeing that he had enough of a mind to take care of himself at least that much was a relief to Quentin. If he were in Eliot's place, and Jules was gone, he wouldn't be out of bed. He hoped it was a sign that Eliot was making progress. 

The memorial service a few days later was miserable. The staff had given Eliot another dose of potion sometime in the morning, and he was still out of it in the evening. It went on like that for weeks, even reaching the point where Eliot wasn't allowed to participate with the rest of his class when all of them took their trials. Thankfully the Summer was better, fewer eyes on him seemed to help Eliot recover, but not participating in the trials with his friends had put a distance between them. The only one he stayed close with was Josh. Quentin found the two older boys spending the majority of their free time with the four of them. 

They became an odd little outcast clique of six, and the bonds started to get tighter as Quentin and his friends advanced into their third year. Eliot started ending up in up in his bed most nights, but the older boy never started there; he came in sometime during the night. Josh finally informed him that it had been something of a staple of Eliot's friendship with Janet. 

It was on a night that Eliot had joined him early when they were both woken up by the upperclassmen. Quentin had known that his trials were approaching, but he hadn't expected Eliot to be added to his group. It was probably cheating to have the fourth year student as part of his translation team, but their group passed, so Quentin wasn't going to complain. It wasn't until the final trial that they ran into the problem of there being an uneven number of them. 

When the trial had been described his first thought was how easy it would be to pair with Julia, because she already knew all his secrets. One look at Eliot, left alone on the couch because the other third years wouldn't pair with the random fourth year, had changed his mind. He'd grabbed two coils of rope and the pot of paste from the table, then headed to the couch to nudge Eliot's knee. The other boy's eyes were watery when he lifted his head, and Quentin knew that whatever secrets Eliot had to tell probably involved his best friend's death. 

Eliot's flask came out as they walked across campus to find a secluded spot. Eventually they ended up on the roof of the main house, where they tried not to watch one another as they stripped. Eliot passed him the flask so he could stripe the paste across his skin. Quentin knew from experience that it wouldn't empty so he took a liberal swallow before getting brave enough to copy Eliot. The older boy coiled the rope around his wrists, then used his telekinesis to tie his own rope. They sat naked across from one another until Eliot pulled his legs to his chest; his bound wrists rested on his knees. 

“I'm not sure what we do.” Quentin whispered. 

“We tell each other secrets until we stumble across whatever our deepest guiding principal is.” Eliot sounded bitter. “Then the rope falls away, and you're supposed to have some kind of 'transformational moment'.” He used his fingers to bracket the words. “Josh was pretty fucking vague last time I asked.”

“Oh.” Quentin sat cross-legged with his bound wrists in his lap. “I kinda envy you.” He admitted to Eliot. “Magic comes to you naturally, you're so talented. I feel like I sometimes struggle to master the most easy spells.” 

“Magic doesn't come from talent, Q.” The older boy's voice was both bitter and gentle at the same time. “It comes from pain. The more miserable you are the easier it becomes.” Quentin watched him blink away tears. “It was an accident, both times. I never wanted to hurt them.” Quentin felt something wild clawing at his chest. 

“El?” 

“I'm going to tell you something deep and dark and personal. Ready? Okay. I killed her.” Quentin watched tears streak down Eliot's face in stunned silence. “We were practicing a cooperative spell. I was drunk, and I moved my hands wrong. I blasted her across the library in the space of a heartbeat.”

“And they didn't expel you because it was an accident?” Quentin ventured. 

“They didn't expel me because telekinesis is intuitive and difficult to bind. I just have to think the thought with enough intent and it happens. Henry was afraid I might hurt someone else if they altered my memory, so I have to live with what I did to them for the rest of my life.” 

“Who was the other person?” 

“This kid who beat me when I was younger. I saw him crossing the street to chase me down, and I wished an oncoming bus would hit him, and then it did. I barely thought the thought. Bam. I knew immediately what I'd done, that it was me. My nose literally started bleeding. Logan died, and I ruined my favorite button-down. I was fourteen.” Quentin blinked away tears of his own and shifted to his knees so he could reach Eliot's face with his bound hands. 

“They were accidents, El. You never would have hurt them if you were given a choice. You're not some monster. Your brain is just broken, kinda like mine. It works differently.” Quentin gave him a miserable smile. He supposed it was his turn to unload his baggage. Before I got here, I was in the hospital. I felt useless, and worthless. I have--or I had-- I don't know, I was sure everything was going to be pointless forever, then I got here. I found magic, or it found me, and I met you the afternoon of my exam, and they let me stay! I don't know how I survived not knowing I was a magician. I wasn't happy out there, I'm not sure I'll ever really be happy because of how my brain is wired. At least here I have more friends than I've ever had, and I don't want to fail.” The ropes unwound from his wrists and fell away, but Eliot's were still in place. “I don't want you to fail either.” He encouraged, what hadn't Eliot told him that could be worse? 

“I never really told Janet about my childhood.” Eliot sniffled. “My best friend didn't even really know me. I told you more in that Summer before your first year than I ever told her.” Eliot dragged his forearm across his nose. “I let her think that my family was wealthy enough to Summer with Kennedys. I never told her that I grew up on a farm in Oregon, and that I wanted to pretend it never happened because they all treated me like crap for being gay. I tried to reinvent myself from the ground up, so people would like me. I wanted to tell her, I know I would have, if she were my trials partner instead of you. She was my sister, my best friend, and I loved her.” The ropes fell from his wrists; Quentin tackled him onto the rooftop and hugged him.

“And now you're not going to forget her.” Eliot sniffled into his neck and clung to him. 

“Ye—“ Eliot's words were cut off as his spine contorted forward. Quentin watched in horror for a second before his body started to twist in a similar fashion. Thick feathers sprouted from his skin as his arms shortened into wings. His legs twisted and shortened as webbing grew between his toes. The transformation was agonizing, then instinct was taking over and they both beat their wings against the air to gain traction. Eliot honked, Quentin wasn't sure if it was in alarm or wonder. He honked back as he did his best to follow the other boy as they glided over campus. 

It took a moment or two to realize that they weren't the only geese circling the school. Instinct drove all of them together, into a v, and then they were flying south in a group. Quentin had no idea where they were flying to, but there was an unbridled joy in having his brain reduced to the size of a bird's. There wasn't room for his anxiety. With his body transformed he felt free from the weight normally piled on his shoulders. Vaguely he wondered if Eliot felt the same. He supposed this was what Josh had meant when he'd cryptically told Eliot of a 'transformational moment'. 

As days of nearly endless flight bled into what had to be weeks – Quentin had no sense of time with his goose brain, he realized why they hadn't sent Eliot the year before. The trip wrecked havoc on their bodies. The longer they fell the leaner each of them became. The levity and playfulness that had possessed them early had dissipated, replaced with determination to keep beating their wings so as not to fall from the sky. When they finally started the final descent to Antarctica's replica of the big house all Quentin wanted was to rest. 

He managed to land with the smallest amount of grace before his limbs started to transform again. Cold rippled along his arms as his feathers melted away. His human mind abruptly reasserted itself. The muscles of his chest and shoulders ached from from weeks of relying on his wings. Eliot was farther back in the group, and landed hard, with no grace at all. He rolled as he hit the ground; by the time he still he was human again. Getting his human mind back had hurt like being slammed in the face with a shovel, it had to have been a million times worse for El, but Quentin didn't have the energy to move and check on him. Out of nowhere a scratchy white blanket was thrown over his shoulders, and Quentin spent the last of his waking energy to pull the thing around himself. 

When he woke up it what he assumed was morning, but there wasn't a clock, and the sun seemed fixed. Quentin found his friends in one of the towers and sank down against the wall beside Julia. Eliot moved to slip down on his other side and the older boy melted into his embrace. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I don't want to be here.” Quentin couldn't blame him. “I don't know if I can do this.” He slid down further to rest his head in Quentin's lap, and Quentin could feel the warmth of his breath through the rough cotton cloth covering his thigh. An exhausted little whine rose from his friend as he raked his hand through Eliot's hair. They both dozed, and when they woke up Mayakovsky had joined them, and was telling them that they wouldn't be able to talk for the duration of their stay. Quentin could feel Eliot's pulse racing under his fingers, then all of them were separated to their own little rooms, and Quentin only saw his friends at meals; Eliot's eyes were empty in days. 

The meticulous minutia of learning circumstances was soul crushing; Quentin forgot what joy was until three months through the semester... when the class became foxes for an afternoon and everything changed. Being a fox was something Quentin would eagerly repeat if he got the chance. They were light and fast on the snow pack, and just like when he'd been a goose, Quentin instinctively knew which of his friends was which. Julia, plowed into him when she lost traction in the snow, and together they landed in a bank of the stuff. White crystals caught in their fur. The girl's yip of delight sent Quentin's spirits soaring.

Penny and Eliot were chasing an ice chunk, and Quentin braced his tiny paws, then pounced as they got closer. He and Eliot rolled into one of the miniature mountain of snow. Together they picked themselves up to shake their fur free, then charged after Penny and the ice chunk as a team. Organically the whole class got involved. Quentin wasn't sure how long it took him to realize the group was dwindling. The musk from the girls was becoming distracting even overwhelming. Quentin tried to keep his attention on the game, then Eliot pounced on him and they slid across the ice. The game had winded them, and they lay together. 

For a moment Eliot's muzzle buried in his fur. Almost as quickly as it happened the other boy back-peddled away from him, and bolted towards the house. Quentin lay there confused, ears perked, trying to process what his fox nose and brain identified as arousal and fear. Eliot was one of his closest friends, without stopping to think why the other boy might have run Quentin picked himself up off the snow and chased after him. 

Eliot had gotten enough of a head start to disappear, but the best part of being a fox was their sense of smell. Relying on the enhancement Quentin had no trouble tracking the other boy to Eliot's room. He got there in time to see the end of Eliot's tail disappear under his bed, his form temporarily hidden by the sheet that hung off the edge. Undeterred Quentin followed him. He found his friend braced low to the ground, almost on his belly, then Eliot rolled onto his back. Quentin's fox brain, his fox instincts, recognized it as a submissive gesture. A memory flitted through Quentin's brain, from what felt like a million years ago, of El in the clock-tower on his knees for some other boy. That was why Eliot had bolted, he smelled on Quentin what Quentin had been struggling to resist from Julia and Alice. Now that they were away from the temptation of the girls Quentin silently admitted that he could smell it too. There had always been a low key strum of want underpinning their friendship, but Quentin didn't want to explore it as a fox. He'd rather wait until they are human again; he knew that he and El could have something special. It was already there, it had been building since they had met. 

Instinct told him to pounce and take, but Quentin fought the urge down and circled around his friend. Eliot rolled back onto his belly and lay still, his ears perked, his head cocked to follow Quentin as Quentin stepped over him. The first swipe of Quentin's tongue lands on Eliot's neck; the other boy tensed under him, like he expected a bite to follow, but Quentin started grooming him instead and Eliot melted. He curled into a little puddle of lean muscle and fur, a content whine encouraging Quentin to continue. Eventually they simply curled up together with Eliot's muzzle buried in his fur. They hadn't slept together in months, it was comforting. 

The click of claws against stone startled both of them out of their respite. Quentin smelled Julia before she ever nosed her way under the edge of the sheet. A low bark rumbled from Eliot's throat, and Quentin snapped his teeth at the other boy. Eliot had submitted to him, he didn't get to snap at Julia for being curious. It worked, Eliot cowered, and Julia back-peddled, deciding that leaving them alone was probably best. Eliot settled again once her scent was far enough away.

Mayakovsky was the next to check on them. Both of them tensed as they felt the vibrations of the man's heavy steps through the floor. The sheet lifted as their professor knelt to check on them. He smirked, and reached towards them. Quentin growled as he reached for Eliot, afraid that the man might haul the other boy out by the scruff of his neck. It was one of Mayakovsky's rare gentle moments. He stroked Eliot's head behind his ears.

“It has been rough road to this point for you, hasn't it little one?” Eliot ducked his muzzle back into Quentin's fur. The man's hand moved, and Quentin arched his neck as thick coarse fingers scratched under his chin; the contact felt ridiculously good. “I tell you what, I leave you both as fox till breakfast, on condition.” The boys heard the springs of Eliot's bed bounce as Mayakovsky patted the mattress. He wanted them to move from under the bed. Eliot uncurled and shook himself out, Quentin watched Eliot's tail as the other boy crept from under the bed, then hopped upward. Quentin moved in a rush, his claws skittering against the stone to follow him. They curled up together and the lights went out as Mayakovsky left. 

When Quentin woke up in the morning it was obvious why Mayakovsky had made them move. They had transformed back to human during the night. Eliot's head was pillowed on his chest. The sheet had ended up thrown across his narrow hips. The older boy's arms were tight around his waist. He stirred even as Quentin did his best not to disturb him. Amber eyes flashed up to hold his gaze, there was a second of hesitation, a silent search for permission, then Quentin leaned in and kissed him. No first kiss was ever perfect, but it was the closest Quentin had ever gotten. The second was better because Quentin gripped his hand in Eliot's hair to guide the angle. He was glad they had waited. Reluctantly they separated, clothes were waiting for them, and Mayakovsky had them working with the fireflies again after breakfast. That night Eliot went to bed with him immediately, instead of slipping in during the night. The next night was the same. Their relationship started with exploratory kisses and fumbling hands. They were building something that might just last through lifetimes.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated. Excuse any mistakes!


End file.
